


My Mind Is Painted Black, and Yet Your Eyes Are Warm

by HollowNightmare



Series: Geraskier Week 2020! [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: 5+1 Things, Brief Mention of Blood, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, Geralt Is Not Okay, Geralt has nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote another song, Jaskier wants to help, Nightmares, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Slash, Self-Destruction, Sharing a Bed, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Songwriting, Worried Jaskier | Dandelion, and they are fucking him up!, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowNightmare/pseuds/HollowNightmare
Summary: written for day 4 of Geraskier week 2020: hurt/comfort"I have no trouble falling asleep".The more they talked about it, the more Jaskier was confused by Geralt's answers. "Then why wouldn't you sleep?" There wasn't going to be an answer to this one, and he knew that, so instead of letting the silence fall on both of them, he changed his approach. "Ah, forget it. Whatever the reason, is there anything I can do to help?"Five times Jaskier wakes up to Geralt doing things he thinks are unusual for his Witcher, and the one time Geralt shakes him awake and everything starts making sense.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week 2020! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636423
Comments: 54
Kudos: 912
Collections: Best Geralt, Five times a character did something cute and one that I saved it as a bookmark, THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH





	1. 1&2

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> Writing this is taking me a lot of time, but I'm pretty happy with how it's turning out.  
> I will add the missing chapters soon, and I'll update the tags as I go.

**1**

Jaskier’s back is killing him — this is it, this is how he dies. Not eaten by some random monster, not murdered in his sleep by a jealous husband; but hurting to death because he’s slept on the cold, hard ground for more days than advisable. 

_At least we’ll be back to civilization by tomorrow’s afternoon_ , he thought, as he groggily opened his eyes to the rising sun. Everything was covered in a golden light, which glowed so breathtakingly that he considered forgiving his aching back for waking him this early. And since he was awake, why not seize the opportunity to get up and get back on the road? That way, they could be where they needed to be a bit earlier, which meant he’d rest sooner than expected. Geralt would be thrilled — well, as thrilled as he allowed himself to be, which wasn’t much — to hear that he didn’t have to wait for Jaskier to get up.

The bard lifted his head to see whether the Witcher was still on his bedroll or not, and found it to be empty. He got up slowly, stretched for a bit, and then rekindled the fire, deciding he’d wait for Geralt before he started eating his breakfast.

The Witcher joined him after a few minutes. He looked a bit tired, but then again Jaskier supposed they both did. 

“A good morning to you, Geralt. As you can see, I am well awake, and eager to resume our traveling. To be frank, I don’t think I can take much more sleeping on the ground — at least, my back can’t. I can’t wait for this journey to be over”.

Geralt hummed mindlessly. He remained silent for a while, then he looked at Jaskier with something akin to guilt in his eyes, and said: “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a bit more for that”.

The bard made a shrieking noise. “What? Why?”

“I need to meditate for a while. We leave around midday”.

Jaskier opened his mouth, ready to start complaining, but then promptly closed it — the Witcher had already gotten up and left, no doubt to find a quiet place to spend the next hours.

The bard was left to wonder why exactly his friend needed to meditate, which was something he rarely did anyway, here in the woods, preferring the trees to a soft mattress; he found no answer that could satisfy him, and decided to focus on other things — he was composing a ballad and struggling to find something that rhymed with Ekhidna, so he took his ink and a quill and went back to his lyrics.

Time passed faster than Jaskier had expected, and soon enough the Witcher plopped himself on a wood trunk in front of him and started cooking a hare. They ate side by side, with no attempts at conversation from Geralt, who was more withdrawn than usual. 

"Geralt — is everything all right?"

The Witcher remained silent.

Jaskier didn't like it when his friend was reticent to give him details concerning his wellbeing, which was what happened most of the time. But he also knew there was no point in pushing it.

"Would you mind it if I played for a bit?"

Geralt shrugged.

He started strumming the strings of his lute absent-mindedly, trying to choose what to sing, and then settled on the first verses of a work in progress that wasn't meant for the public — but he could make an exception.

_The snow was falling softly from the sky  
Covering long branches, black and bare  
When I heard your voice call "Do not despair!"  
You started walking East, and so did I _

_We went through silent forests and deep seas  
Your eyes were closed, and I had closed my heart  
The winds were trying to tear us apart  
You heard my broken voice "Don't leave me, please" _

_Hand in hand we went through countless storms  
And waited for the snow to fall again  
Some nights I shook and thought "This is the end"  
But I could see your eyes and they were warm _

Once he stopped singing, they both got on Roach, to make up for lost time, and headed out of the woods, towards the next job.

* * *

**2**

Jaskier's back has stopped killing him, at this point. He's way too accustomed to sleeping on the ground to be bothered. Would he prefer a mattress? Absolutely. Does he resent the rocks that find their way under his back while he is asleep? Not anymore. When he wakes up, he feels fine, and decently rested. 

That morning, he awakened a bit later than usual. He got into a sitting position, yawned, and opened his eyes. Geralt was already awake, as expected, and he was throwing twigs and small branches into the flames of a small fire. The Witcher stared at him for a few seconds, assessing his condition and no doubt judging him because he hadn't woken up earlier, then went back to tending to the fire.

Jaskier yawned again. "Do we have any breakfast, my mighty Witcher? Or are we to starve until midday?"

Geralt wordlessly handed him some bread that looked fresh enough for him to be happy about it, and that was the moment Jaskier noticed his hands — that is, he noticed the bloody bandages they were covered in. 

"Bloody hell, Geralt! What, did you decide it was the perfect morning to go around and punch trees?"

The Witcher blinked, not really expecting an outburst like that, and then nodded.

Jaskier snorted in disbelief. "And what, pray tell, persuaded you to do such a thing?"

A shrug was all he got as an answer.

"Honestly. The moment I turn around you do some stupid shit". He sighed dramatically. "All right, let me see".

Geralt looked like he very much did not want to let him see, but he didn't stop the bard from coming over and gently undoing the bandages. When he saw the state his knuckles were in, Jaskier gasped, and frowned. "How, exactly, are you going to hold your sword?" 

The Witcher didn't appear to be bothered; he grabbed the nearest weapon (a dagger) and threw it at the tree in front of them. His hand started bleeding profusely.

"All right, all right, I won't doubt your abilities again, now for the love of the Gods stop using your hands!"

He redid the dressings, frowning all the way through it, then sighed and started eating his bread.

"Why did you have to punch a tree, anyway? Couldn't you choose something less abrasive instead?" he huffed, not really expecting an answer. Geralt hummed, and they both left it at that.


	2. 3&4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments!  
> I should be uploading the final chapter tomorrow, or the day after if it needs more revision than expected.

**3**

Jaskier has no problems sleeping on the ground by now, but he doesn't see why he should sleep under the stars if he has enough coin to pay for a room; he's more than happy to play for a few hours in a tavern, if that means he'll be resting on a mattress, and Geralt rarely keeps him from doing so, if they're not on a schedule.

The bard was sitting on his bed, with his back against the wall, scribbling in his notebook and occasionally lifting his eyes from the paper to look at Geralt, who was sitting on the windowsill and watching the fire crackle; there were sparks flying everywhere, and the room was warm enough for them to leave the window ajar.

"You haven't moved an inch in the last hour, have you noticed?" he asked jokingly.

"Hmm".

"I know you love to just sit on your own and brood, but I don't think your muscles are benefitting from all this stillness".

"Hmm".

Jaskier put down his quill. "Excuse me, are you just throwing _hmm_ s at me until I shut up?

"Hmm".

"All right, have it your way. As long as you don't start complaining about the soreness you'll surely feel".

The Witcher snorted.

Jaskier threw him one last look, then decided it was time he went to sleep. He put away his quill, ink, and notebook, got under the covers and bid a goodnight to Geralt, who hummed in response.

The following morning, the smell of fresh bread that came through the window awakened him, and he found himself to be hungry enough to be willing to get up. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple of times to get used to the light; once he did, he couldn't help but notice that Geralt was sitting on the windowsill, apparently in the same position as that of the previous night.

"Good morning, Geralt. Have you perchance been sitting there all night?"

The Witcher grunted.

Jaskier blinked. He hadn't really expected his friend to spend the night anywhere other than a bed. "Well, did you get any sleep?"

Geralt cleared his throat. "No".

The bard was at a loss for words. "But weren't you tired? I thought anyone would want to rest, after a week of traveling and a monster hunt".

"I do want to rest".

"What is it, then? You can't sleep?"

"I have no trouble falling asleep".

The more they talked about it, the more Jaskier was confused by Geralt's answers. "Then why wouldn't you sleep?" There wasn't going to be an answer to this one, and he knew that, so instead of letting the silence fall on both of them, he changed his approach. "Ah, forget it. Whatever the reason, is there anything I can do to help?"

Geralt actually averted his eyes from the dying embers, at that. He looked at him, pondering his question, then shook his head a little.

"Alright. But please, don't spend the night like that again — it really isn't good for you".

The Witcher hummed noncommittally, and Jaskier hummed back. "Now, what do you say about some food? I don't know about you, but I'm nearly starving".

* * *

**4**

People have started begging Jaskier for a performance. They know who he is; everyone on the Continent knows. And Jaskier is more than happy to sing for them, because he loves singing and he loves getting paid and he loves sleeping buried in feathery pillows.

He had been playing for two hours when he decided he'd call it a night. They had to leave the following morning, and he didn't want to be too tired to get up at a reasonable time. 

Geralt was already in their room, lying on the only bed they'd been given. He turned towards Jaskier. "I was about to come and drag your ass to bed, but you're getting wise with age, it seems".

"Believe me, I'm already regretting this. I could be getting drunk right now".

"You'd regret _that_ in the morning".

Jaskier hummed, not entirely convinced; he took off his shoes and got under the covers. 

"Sleeping before midnight… what a waste. Goodnight, Geralt".

The Witcher grunted, and they both fell asleep.

Jaskier didn't stay asleep long. He was used to going to bed much, much later in the night, and his body had decided it should still be awake. The bard sighed. He rolled over, and found the other side of the bed to be empty. Now _that_ was unusual. One hour had passed, and both of them were already awake, one of them out of bed.

_Let’s make that two_ , he decided, getting up. He wasn’t tired, and he wanted to find out where exactly Gerat had disappeared to. He put on his shoes and headed out of the room.

Finding Geralt did not prove to be a hard task: he was sitting at the counter of the nearest alehouse, chugging ale as if his life depended on it.

_How peculiar_. Jaskier joined his friend, ordered some ale, and watched the Witcher with mirth in his eyes.

“Geralt! Are you, by any chance, drunk?”

Geralt stared at him for a few moments, then decided to humor him. “Not nearly as drunk as I’d like to be”.

Jaskier was delighted. He never thought he’d get to see Geralt drunk, but apparently it was about to happen, and he intended to savour every second of it. Except… It really was odd that the Witcher wanted to get drunk.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why exactly did you decide this was the perfect night to drink copious amounts of ale?”

Geralt growled. “If you want to keep me company, you need to stop talking and start drinking, Jaskier”. 

The bard happily complied. Better to remain silent and keep an eye on his friend than leaving him alone, if something was bothering him. Plus, there was alcohol. It was a win-win situation for all parties involved.

An hour later, they were both positively drunk. 

Jaskier was singing and laughing and constantly talking, which annoyed Geralt to no end; the Witcher was brooding more than usual, and he started to regret having drank so much.

They staggered back to the inn they were staying in; climbing the stairs that separated them from their room was no easy feat, but they managed to get to their bed.

“We are _so_ going to regret this in the morning” Jaskier snickered, poking Geralt in his ribs.

“I’m regretting this already. Now shut up and sleep”.

“Oh my, what terrible manners”. He struggled to get out of his shoes. “I take it you’re not suddenly cured of all the problems that ailed you”.

Geralt threw him a puzzled look.

“Now, my dear witchery Witcher, no-one abandons their comfy bed in the middle of the night to go get drunk, unless they want to try and make their problems disappear. I should know. You can’t fool me, Geralt. I see riiight through you”.

“Sure you do” Geralt muttered, covering the half-asleep bard with a blanket.


	3. 5+1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you, again, for all your kudos and comments!  
> I really hope you'll like this final chapter, I've tried my best to write it exactly as I'd envisioned it, and I'm pretty happy with the result.

**5**

The bed was very comfortable, there was no denying it. And sleeping next to Geralt was nice, because it meant Jaskier was never cold. The bard had been exhausted and in no shape to do anything other than sleeping; it was snowing hard, with snowflakes flurrying and whirling around — everything was telling him to stay in bed for the next few days, doing nothing, simply enjoying the mattress and the warmth.

So why exactly was Jaskier awake?

He had been sleeping just fine until some moments before, when suddenly he had opened his eyes, not an ounce of sleep left in him.

He stared at the wooden ceiling. It was pretty unusual for him to be awake in the middle of the night (unless, of course, he was busy drinking, or in the company of a lovely stranger), and he didn’t like it one bit. He exhaled slowly, knowing that a change in his breathing would probably wake Geralt up, and wanting to let the Witcher rest. No reason for both of them to be awake while the moon was still shining bright.

He closed his eyes, hoping to trick his brain into shutting itself down, but sleep simply wouldn’t return. Jaskier wasn’t a patient man. He could be, on occasion, but not when he couldn’t sleep. After a few minutes of trying to keep his eyes closed, he decided it was time to watch the snow fall.

He opened his eyes once again, turned his head towards the window — and then he froze.

Geralt was lying motionless next to him, his eyes wide open, and he was _crying_.

 _Fuck_. Jaskier stopped breathing, stopped thinking. His ears shut down. The whole world halted, and stood still, as he tried to understand what his eyes were telling him, because his Witcher was crying silently next to him, and that just… wasn’t right.

Geralt never cried. He shouted, he growled, he stopped talking for days, sometimes he laughed, but this — this shouldn’t be happening. Why was this happening? What could have happened to make his friend cry like this — not sobbing violently, not breathing heavily, but just having tears roll down his face, one after the other, never stopping, all in complete silence?

Jaskier decided there would be another time to think about these and other depressing matters; right now, his main concern was how to help.

It looked like Geralt hadn’t noticed he was awake — this, too, was all kinds of wrong. Jaskier turned on his left side, so that he could face the Witcher. 

“Geralt, hey.” he murmured, very softly, and very gently. “Can you hear me? You don’t have to say anything, but I need to make sure you’re here with me”.

Geralt blinked.

 _Alright_. “I really don’t know what’s going on, and I hope one day you will tell me, but right now I just want to help. Is there anything I can do?”

No reaction.

_He probably doesn’t know about anything that would help him. Which doesn’t mean I can’t help._

“Would it be all right if I held your hand?”

Geralt nodded, barely moving his head.

Jaskier took his hand gently, trying not to overwhelm his friend.

“I could tell you about my days as a teacher, if you’d like me to. What do you think?”

Another nod.

And so the bard started talking slowly about the days he spent teaching at Oxenfurt, telling the Witcher about his colleagues and his students; and once he was done he started telling him about his childhood, about the times he’d traveled alone, about the thousand pretty things he’d seen, and before any of them could notice it the night was over.

They stayed in bed, hand in hand, for the rest of the morning. Some time after dawn, Geralt had stopped crying. The snow was falling quietly, and everything was silent.

* * *

**+1**

Someone was shaking him awake.

“Jaskier”.

The bard emerged from the sweet oblivion he had dived in. _Geralt. Right._ He opened his eyes to a starry sky — it still wasn’t time to go, then. So why was the Witcher…?

Jaskier tried to get a good look at his friend’s face. After a few seconds, it was clear to him that Geralt was deeply upset about something. He was sweating, his hair was a tangled mess, his breathing was off and his eyes looked frantic, which was something that didn’t happen, period.

“What’s happening?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

“Sing something. Please”.

Jaskier was taken aback by the request, but immediately started searching his brain for something gentle enough, and then he remembered the time, years before, when he had sang the first verses of a song that he had now finished. He exhaled, and started singing.

_The snow was falling softly from the sky  
Covering long branches, black and bare  
When I heard your voice call "Do not despair!"  
You started walking East, and so did I _

_We went through silent forests and deep seas  
Your eyes were closed, and I had closed my heart  
The winds were trying to tear us apart  
You heard my broken voice "Don't leave me, please" _

_Hand in hand we went through countless storms  
And waited for the snow to fall again  
Some nights I shook and thought "This is the end"  
But I could see your eyes and they were warm _

_You said "My love, try and look at the stars  
They've fallen to the bottom of the sea  
For you to see them, and see what could be  
Now you are free to follow them to Mars"_

_The chains that bound my heart had come undone  
I was free to go - I wouldn't stay  
I choose the brightest star to lead the way  
You guided me until we reached the Sun_

_My love, my mind's still black, and yet I breathe  
The darkness cannot freeze me anymore  
I was lonely, and rotten to the core  
You calmed my heart: now I can feel the breeze._

His voice had grown more and more unwavering with each stanza. Halfway through, he’d started tracing patterns on one of the Witcher’s hands, and when the song ended he held it gently, brushing his thumb against the scarred knuckles.

Geralt looked way calmer, and his breathing was less erratic than before.

“How are you feeling?” Jaskier asked softly, keeping his voice down.

“Better. Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you up”.

The bard shushed him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m always happy to sing. And I’m even more thrilled when my singing helps”. He looked kindly at the Witcher. “Do you want to tell me what happened? It’s okay if you don’t”.

Geralt took a steadying breath. “I don’t… I don’t dream very often. Perks of being a Witcher. But when I do… it isn’t pretty”. He tugged at his hair with his free hand. “It really isn’t. It’s poisonous. I wake up, and I stop functioning for a while. Sometimes I wake up and I don’t know if I’m awake”. He started trembling. Jaskier strengthened his hold on the Witcher’s hand. “So then I need to find out if I’m still trapped inside my own mind, or if I’ve managed to escape. That’s why I asked you to sing. There’s nothing beautiful about my dreams”. His voice became a whisper. “But you- when you sing — that’s beautiful”.

Jaskier didn’t know what to say. He realized he had started crying, and wiped the tears from his face. Suddenly, a lot of things started making sense. The meditation, the self-destructive behaviours — the crying. 

“...I liked your song. Would you mind singing it again?”

The bard chuckled. “My dear Witcher, I’ll sing it to you for as long as you’ll need me to”.

He squeezed Geralt’s hand, picked up his lute, and sang until the snow started falling. He put away his lute then, and he sang some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was it!  
> Do tell me what you thought of it! I, for one, love to make Geralt suffer (just in case you hadn't noticed lol)
> 
> You can come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://pengwings-are-cool.tumblr.com).
> 
> Have a good day! :)


End file.
